Traces
by Solkar
Summary: Alternate Universe / Timeline. ENT/TNG crossover. What would have happened if Jonathan Archer had been charged after the "airlock incident" of 3x02 "Anomaly"? Much T'Pol; some JLP cause of the crossover, but no Archer heroism and no TnT. Something else.
1. Departures

**Disclaimer**: All Star Trek things belong to CBS/Paramount

**Notes**: Alternate Universe / Timeline. ENT/TNG crossover. What would have happened if Jonathan Archer had been charged after the "airlock incident" of 3x02 "Anomaly"? Much T'Pol; some JLP cause of the crossover, but no Archer heroism and no TnT. But something else.

This storyline uses a double timeframe; because one is is located in the distant TNG future I will let Captain Picard tell most of my version of the Xindi-Tale and the aftereffects. In this Universe, "Precious Cargo" hasn't happened for reasons which will hopefully become clear, otherwise it is based on ENT canon until the "airlock incident" of 3x02 "Anomaly".

Btw. Don't be afraid of Jean-Luc Picard and T'Pol match-made; that won't happen. Not Jean-Luc. And "Dishar Kiaphet'sor", who will become important later, is yet unknown; but you might have heard about Kiaphet Amman'sor from Degra. They are related. :-)

Have fun!

xxx

March 21st 2377; Briar Patch

Jean-Luc Picard sighed slightly with relief, when Worf, who had volunteered at the helm, launched the yacht "Costeau" from Enterprise. Finally their three-month vacation to Ba'ku had begun.

The last days had passed as expected; no senior member of his crew had missed the chance to provide him with good advice of how to pursue his romance with Anij; even Commander Data had tried to assist.

xxx

He had just been trying to hide from ship´s gossip in the solitude of his ready room when Data had stepped in, carrying a PADD. "Captain Picard, here is the detailed report of the sensor readings we have taken from the stellar nursery we just passed..." Data had stopped noticing the not-overly-friendly look on his superior´s face.

"Very well, Commander. I take it the black hole which will result from the UV-peak giant in...let´s have a look..." Picard knew that Data could very well note the anger in his voice "oh, ...'just' 47 Million years from now will require our immediate attention or am I mistaken, Commander?".

Data decided against providing the size of the event horizon he had already approximated and started again "Captain, I have a personal question."

Jean-Luc sighed mentally. 'I have a personal question' had become the ultimate trick over the past few days to engage him in conversation regarding his immediate vacation and its romantic aspects.

Normally his quarters would have been a better sort of hideaway than his ready-room but lately he had been feeling strangely irritated when being there. Somehow his place had seemed strange like someone had violated its privacy without his knowledge and had let a sort of trace. Picard had even checked security logs for reassurance but had found no evidence for an intrusion.

So his best resort was his ready-room where he would only have to deal with occasional visitors who came for 'important ship-business'. He resigned. "Very well, Mr. Data. Please sit down and ask me what you want to 'know'"!"

"Captain, I have tried to deduct the reason for the emotional state of agitation humans enter in anticipation of pleasant events like romantic encounters."

"Mr. Data, you can be sure that even stoic Vulcans acknowledge certain nervousness ahead of reunification with their mates." He noticed his phrase. Why had he disclosed his reflections about his current emotional state that way?

"'Friends' I meant." he corrected himself hastily. "Besides that, I'm not at all nervous!"

"But Captain, you just said that even Vulcans would..."

"If there´s nothing else, Commander, I'm sure the equations for the upcoming singularity need your full attention!"

"Fortunately I already have been able to compute a sufficient approximation. But I would like to ask if this nervousness could not be counter-productive in terms of chances for reproduction..."

Picard got up and straightened his uniform."Mr. Data, be assured that my reproductive capabilities are sufficient!"

"I apologize Sir. I just wanted to know..."

"Mr. Data?"

"Sir?"

"Get out! Now."

"Yes, Sir!"

Jean-Luc watched the door closing after his third in command had left. Thinking about reproduction was ridiculous. As was thinking of any physical encounter from the current state of his relationship with Anij.  
He was sure about that.

And he was sure he would enter the gym right away.

xxx

Picard looked at his helmsman. Worf wore the ornate robe of a Klingon Ambassador, which added to his already broad frame. The helm was virtually covered by his massive body. The casual observer would only see a huge warrior radiating strength and a fierce determination. That was the expected attitude of all Klingon warriors as Jean-Luc knew very well. But somehow Worf had changed over the last few years; sometimes Jean-Luc wondered if Worf was old beyond his years; Worf had gotten only 37 terrestrial years recently but sometimes there was a melancholy in his looks when he watched the other members of the crew or discussed current Federal politics with him.

Jean-Luc recalled what he had heard or witnessed of his former tactical officer´s biography. 'The best I've ever ever known' he added mentally. Word had once accepted disgrace to save the Klingon Empire. Fortunately Picard had been able to correct this political lie when he helped now-Chancellor Gawron defeat the Duras family and restore order within the Empire. Gawron and the Empire owed Worf a lot. 'A lot too much for my personal taste' Jean-Luc noted mentally.

Worf´s private life was a chain of drama. Worf´s father Mogh got killed in a Romulan assault so he had been raised by humans. To Picards knowledge Worf had had three romantic encounters Jadzia Dax, Deanna Troi and the unforgotten K'Ehleyr, mother of Worf´s son Alexander, former Federal Ambassador to Qo'nos. Another victim of "secret politics" and conspiracy.

Picard knew that Worf still celebrated Klingon rituals for her in the mystical darkness of his quarters. Although Worf would never admit that, Picard knew that he was grieving. No one, no Human, Klingon or Vulcan would remain unchanged after having experienced such a large share of tragedy.  
Worf was feeling exhausted and lonesome, Picard concluded.

Worf turned his chair around and addressed Captain Picard, thus interrupting his musings "Sir, I think I've detected a suitable asteroid.".

"There´s no need to call me ´sir' any longer, 'Excellency'" Picard gave back with a faint smile. Technically Worf outranked him since he was granted ambassadorship.

"It is Klingon customs to address heroes of the Empire using a phrase of honor" Worf replied with the low he always used when he wanted to sound matter-of-factly. "Sir" he added pointedly.

Picard was laughing "Although I have never heard about these customs I understand it would be unwise to dispute that, or am I mistaken?"

"Very unwise, indeed. Things like this can easily inflict severe diplomatic complications," Worf added with a sheepish grin which once had become a trademark of him but was rarely seen lately.

"That kind of complications which usually requires large quantities of blood-wine to become settled?" Picard was guessing.

"Precisely. You see, it is a benefit of ambassadorial immunity that personal luggage is off-limits for security checks." Worf added. "That includes certain sorts of liquor which are usually banned. Sir!"

"I'll be all up for some of that contraband after we'll have managed to hide our own" Picard said while moving to the sensor station to have a look at the asteroid Worf had found. "Looks perfect" he noted. Their 'contraband' consisted of several ray weapons and the collection of Klingon blades Worf was used to carry with him.

Anij had requested that they would not bring weapons with them and Jean-Luc intended to honor that request, but Worf had not been amused about this restriction, to say the least. So Picard and Worf had to find a compromise which included that they would 'bury' their weapons on a nearby asteroid instead of taking them to the surface. Knowing they were within the range of the powerful transporter of the Costeau would help Worf feeling less 'naked' how he had put it himself. Worf was very touchy when it came to leaving his precious bat'leth behind.

"I have located a cavern just beneath the surface which is large enough" Worf stated, but decided to try a final attempt to shift their compromise a little. He engaged the auto-pilot, got up and went over to his companion.

"Captain Picard. I must repeat expressing my concerns about landing on an non-federal planet without taking appropriate security measures. I'm not completely comfortable with our compromise."

Captain Picard straightened himself and nodded slightly but with a grim expression "It is the nature of a compromise not to feel completely comfortable, Mr. Worf!" He had intentionally avoided to call him Ambassador this time, he intended no offense. Yet.

"The last time we were on this planet we were at the center of a kind of a civil war and a giant conspiracy. Some precaution would be advisable. Sir." Worf felt that Picard was beginning to become angry by this debate.

"That´s true, but I don't intend to pickup habits of warmongering captains of ancient times who were used to do pursue 'exploration' ferro ignique." Picard was definitely getting angry.

Worf hesitated "I'm sorry, Captain. I don't know that phrase. My knowledge of ancient Terran dialects is still limited."

"It means..." suddenly the comm emitted an unusual sound "...with iron and fire. What´s that sound? I've never heard that alarm." Word manned the comm station where Picard joined him.

xxx

Worf reviewed the display quickly "It´s an 'Open Arrest Warrant' warning. The communicator used for the transmission belongs to..." Word hesitated "...just a moment, I might have to compensate..." Worf rapidly. "That is strange..." he finally stated.

Captain Picard got impatient "What is it, Mr. Worf? Report!"

"The communicator used was registered in 2151 for 'Captain Jonathan Archer'"

Picard frowned "If that´s a 'Happy romance, Captain!' joke someone will dearly pay for it. Put it on audio"

Fragments of a message spoken by a firm but soft female voice that sounded somewhat faintly familiar broke the silence "...Vulcan Cruiser Shi´Kar...out of fuel...no casualties...require taxi...come in.." The rest was white noise.

"Sir, that sounds much like a trap. It is hard to believe that a Vulcan vessel would run out of fuel. And 'require taxi' is code for 'vessel destroyed'. It is unlikely that this happened without casualties."

Picard nodded. "It is even more unlikely that the Vulcans would name a combat vessel like their Capital City. And its most uncommon to name the ship class in a distress call." Picard´s thoughts were racing.

"Mr. Worf, please visualize the carrier wave!"

"Sir?"

"You´ve heard me." Captain Picard had a theory he wanted to check.

The sinus-like wave form was modulated by both amplitude and frequency.

"Time and Space..." Picard whispered more to himself than to Worf.

"Sir?"

"Later. Run a pattern-detection algorithm on the carrier. Match with the complete DB"

"That might take several minutes, Sir. We have lesser number-crunching capabilities than Enterprise"

"I know. Do it!" Picard had to smile due to the fact that the mentioned 'number-crunching' capabilities for the better part were incorporated by Mr. Data.

xxx

After Worf had typed in a number of commands he leaned back and said "I assume you have a theory, Sir?"

Picard sat down and started "Mr. Worf, what do you recall about the disappearance of Captain Jonathan Archer during the Xindi-Crisis of 2153-2154?"

Worf tried to recall the events "He was relieved of duty by his first officer after he tortured a prisoner and threatening to kill him..."

"...by depressurizing an airlock," Picard concluded. He seemed disgusted as he continued. "Even in the 22nd century this was considered a severe crime, so the XO had no other option than to enforce Starfleet regulations. Do you recall what happened next?"

"He was taken from Enterprise by a carrier vessel which disappeared from screens afterwards," Worf recalled. He was considered a fugitive and an arrest warrant was issued."

Picard got up and braced himself "That part of the story was always open to the public; what was restricted to senior personnel are the insights Captain T'Pol, former Archer´s XO, had regarding his disappearance. Your security clearance has been upgraded recently so I can tell you the classified part." Picard paused and tried to compose himself. He had a strong dislike of the practice of covering unpopular incidents with military confidentiality.

"It´s partially just a theory, but given the originator this is one which should not easily be disposed of." Ambassador T'Pol had been instrumental for the success of the early Alliance and later the Federation of Planets, as both men knew very well. "T'Pol had the theory that Archer had become kind of paranoid after having been relieved of duty and that he suspected T'Pol being under the influence of a yet unknown fraction of the 'Temporal Cold War'."

Worf spoke up. "That was absurd. She is known to have lived and died with honor."

Picard knew that Worf was referring to the fact that a portrait of hers, along with the portraits of few - very few indeed - other off-worlders had been placed in a niche of the Great Hall of Qo'nos, commonly known as the "Stranger´s Shrine".

"Precisely" Picard continued. "T'Pol had the theory that on the contrary Archer and a time agent who called himself 'Daniels' were manipulated systematically. She stated that furthermore Archer had begun missing the purpose of their current mission and his own purpose of honoring his farther´s achievements of constructing the vessels warp drive."

"I have read that Henry Archer had run into obstacles when his drive was to be scheduled for the test cycles." Worf threw in.

Picard nodded."This, in addition to the fact that his early death had prevented Henry Archer from pursuing the deployment his of own invention, made Jonathan Archer trying to 'worship' his father on each and every occasion. And at every cost, even human morality, lately."

He took a deep breath and paused, inwardly shaken by a memory suddenly creeping up inside him; a memory of another Captain of another Enterprise running into a kind of 'holy war' with the Borg. "Once upon but not ago, Ahab," he reminded himself.

"A psychic explanation for Captain Archer´s dishonorable behavior." Worf interrupted Picard´s musings. "But do you know why this assessment was classified, Sir?"

"At a first look, it was held back simply because Vulcans are not generally famous for their understanding of human´s psychic balance and thus this was considered too hypothetical." Worf wanted to speak up, but Picard signaled to let him finish "But that´s just the issue at a first look, Mr. Worf. Thinking about it a little more one might come to the conclusion that certain former supporters of Jonathan Archer simply didn't want to hear about the oddities of humans shortly after humanity had just been solved from the threat of extermination; most of all not if they had come to considering Jonathan Archer a hero, a savior maybe."

He smiled bitterly. "And most certainly not by a Vulcan, an 'alien', regardless of her having completed the mission that had saved Earth."

"Sir, do you suspect there was a political intrigue behind this?" Worf asked, frowning.

"Well, sort of, Mr. Worf. There was even more; there also was something T'Pol said in a hearing what should have been considered. She reported that when she accompanied Jonathan Archer on his way to the carrier vessel he repeated his theory about a giant conspiracy against him and that he considered himself being 'chosen' to accomplish the mission in the Expanse." Picard looked Worf straight into the eyes. "She told the commission that Jonathan Archer said he would accomplish the historical tasks he was chosen for; against all odds if necessary." Picard paused shortly before finishing, got up and straightened his jacket.  
"And he told her he would be back from the abyss sooner than she or anyone else expected."

Jean-Luc gave Worf a moment to process the information he had just disclosed to him, then continued. "All this wouldn't be of much interest, except for historians, if there hadn't been temporal phenomena on from the very start of the NX-01 mission. So in my opinion guessing that Jonathan Archer´s disappearance was not a simple escape but was arranged by a hostile species with both temporal and manipulative talents, is far from being delusional."

Worf drew the conclusion "So I understand this was T'Pol´s theory and that she recommended further investigations which were never pursued, Sir?"

Picard affirmed this. "That is still a black hole in Starfleet history; carefully preserved through the ages. Think about what would have happened if someone had found out about a former Starfleet captain being manipulated by a hostile species and maybe preserved for a final blow by temporal trickery. The career of many politicians would have been at stake who saw a chance for themselves in a rapidly growing intergalactic community."

After having finished Jean-Luc sat down again and sighed mentally. His long and interesting life had had many enlightening and great moments but he had also gotten insight into the darkest sides of the consciousness of humans and other species. 'Maybe more than I wanted and most likely more than I share with others,' he had to confess to himself when he noticed the sad look of his companions face.

But Worf was able to compose himself amazingly fast, given the fact that he had just been informed that the Federation he served for was not as bright and innocent as he had once been told. "Sir, has Ambassador T'Pol never tried to solve this riddle on her own? She and the officers she served with are well known for their - well 'challenging' - course of action."

Picard was laughing. "Mr. Worf, why don't you simply say 'disobedient' if you imply it?"

Worf shifted on his seat, obviously slightly uncomfortable with the situation. "I have read that a distant relative of yours was very much involved in the events of those days."

Picard gave in. "To say the least, yes, and I'm very proud of that since someone who must know best told me about him."

Worf did not get this "Sir?"

"Mr. Worf, this is something very few people know. I honor my ancestor´s record, of course, but try not to refer to whose hand I've shaken because of it." Jean-Luc hesitated, but given the circumstances of their conversation he decided to give in. "I met Ambassador T'Pol once in 2318 and she talked with me for a while. She was 230 terrestrial years old - and I was 13 and had no real idea who exactly she was."

Picard could not resist laughing about this memory and even Worf showed a faint smile.

"My father was very skeptical about my interest for space and exploration and had yet told me little about my ancestors. But it happened to me that one evening a Vulcan woman unknown to me, who had visited my family for a reason I did not know, found me hiding in the garden with a star-chart and..."

xxx

They were interrupted by a short beep by the computer, indicating it had found a match.

Worf reviewed the result "There were two security distress codes encoded. Both Level 4; Level 4 Sigma," he continued. Sigma meant two senior officers had to authenticate for decoding. He began the standard procedure.

"Sir, we've two Level 4 Sigma messages. Permission to authenticate?"

"Permission granted"

"Computer" a short jingle indicated readiness "Authenticating Worf, Lieutenant Commander off duty, current assignment Federal Embassy Qo'nos, SP 947-869"

"Acknowledged. Please enter your private key now." the mechanic voice said. Worf put in his description sequence.

"Computer," a short jingle indicated readiness, "authenticating Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain, current assignment NCC-1701E Enterprise, SP 937-215."

Jean-Luc grimaced due the bureaucracy of the procedure but put in his part of the description sequence.

Despite having expected something close to this, both men were slightly shocked when they saw the results.

Picard spoke up first "Mr. Worf, either someone is simply trying to mess around with the two of us or there are two of the most famous diplomats of Starfleet history down on that planet and someone is trying to mess around with the four of us." Jean-Luc´s mood worsened significantly. "So either someone is simply smart and has a bad sense of humor or he has additional temporal talents."

Worf drew the conclusion "I think we have met someone who matches the latter profile amazingly accurate."

Jean-Luc suddenly knew why his quarters had recently seemed strange - he did not own the hard-copy of "Proceedings", written by T'Pol and Dishar Kiaphet´sor, that had stood in the topmost shelf of his small private library! His own issue had been vaporized along with the debris of the NCC1701-D somewhere on the surface of Veridian III six years ago.

"At least I don't have to worry about becoming mental about my recent feeling of being haunted in my quarters," he thought and smiled wryly. Human subconsciousness was an amazing phenomenon. But on the other hand there was just one man, or better one 'entity', who could and would secretly place a book in locked quarters and could and would deal with all that fuss to cover this, including faking ship´s perimeter log, just to make his 'joke' working.

And this certain 'man' was the last one Jean-Luc was looking forward to meeting on his vacation.

TBC


	2. Spaces

Friday, September 6th 2154  
Earth, close to Bolinas, San Francisco Bay Area, 1300 Hours

T'Pol entered her apartment, dropped her backpack onto the wooden floor, shut the door behind her, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The air was clean, pure, with a slight resemblance of cinnamon and a salty note from the ocean. Everything seemed perfect.

"'Home at last' was a phrase humans used that would describe this moment amazingly accurate," she thought.

She looked around with surprise. George's schoolmate had been very thoughtful in anticipating her needs during the time Enterprise had been to Vulcan; in fact it was hard to believe that this well-furnished, clean and bright place had been a devastated construction area less than half a year ago when George had taken her here the first time.

T'Pol appreciated the memory of that day.

XXX

Friday, February 22nd 2154  
Earth, Vulcan Consulate at Sausalito, San Francisco Bay Area, 1700 Hours

During one of the countless social events that followed the return of Enterprise to Earth after the Xindi-mission. T'Pol had been caught again by a high-ranking politician and his corona of journalists and lobbyists.

By that time she had developed a skill of dealing with these situations; which was basically saying nothing until the politician had finished his or her usual monologue; then dropping one single empty phrase and immediately afterwards pretending she had seen somebody she had been looking for desperately and using this for a quick exit.

But that certain VIP took an eternity to finish his monologue and she started looking around; getting significantly bored. She noted that her former XO had had little better luck than herself; George had been the highest ranking human aboard her vessel and was therefor bombarded with public attention; thus often being surrounded by a media corona like herself. While he was patiently waiting for 'his' lobbyist to finish, his eyes found hers.

Discretely he started signaling that he was starving and T'Pol felt similar. It had always seemed highly absurd to her that she and her crew-mates were so often invited for social events but nobody really cared about giving them, being the honored guests, time to meet their nutritional requirements; instead keeping them engaged in smalltalk all the time the buffet was open.

After dropping her usual phrase and successfully exiting the state of siege around her she decided to take measures to set her former XO free.

It was advantageous that George's huge frame would cover her until she was in tactical distance and ready to strike. She noticed that someone had asked George something trivial about fleet coordination; basically completely harmless, but fair enough to suit her needs.

She instantly stepped inside the crowd, faced the interviewer with the coldest glare available and issued shortly "That information is classified."

The journalist, a bulky man with a deranged tie who held the remedies of a cucumber sandwich in his fat left hand, instantly froze and started murmuring some apologies T'Pol and George did not attend, instead they used the moment of confusion for a quick escape.

"Thank you, T'Pol, I'm actually starving." George said when they were finally trying to reach the buffet.

She nodded. "I've been told it's a good practice for a CO to look after the welfare of former subordinates. That includes proper nutrition." From all human men she knew George was the only one who got her discrete attempts of humor easily.

She wasn't disappointed that time, he instantly picked up the glove. "'Former'? So after having pulled strings to arrange my preliminary promotion to Captain you're finally sure that you managed kicking me off your vessel?"

She had looked at his wide smile. He had her. She had become much acquainted to his presence aboard Enterprise and, although technically correct due to the fact that their mission had officially been ceased after their return to Earth, it was preliminary to assume their common service had ended.

"You know that I'd like to keep you as XO, but that is both unlikely and would be counterproductive in terms of your career." T'Pol tried to sound professional.

While talking, they had been proceeding slowly inside the queue that approached the buffet but now George stopped and turned towards her.

"Have you ever seen me caring for things like career, T'Pol?" He smiled, but his calm gray eyes told T'Pol how serious he was about that. "And when it comes to likeliness; we have succeeded on tasks with worse chances, haven't we?"

They had arrived at the head of the buffet and George handed her plate, fork and spoons. While he equipped himself T'Pol took a moment to let her eyes rest on him.

xxx

He was the most striking human officer she had met. At a first look, there was his prominent hair-style, one that he successfully defended against any attempts of his superiors to talk him into a change. He let his dark, almost black, slightly curly hair grow to shoulder-length and wore it bound resembling what the humans called a 'pony-tail'. That was a fashion which, worn by human males, T'Pol had only seen in old movies; but she knew that Klingons were accustomed to that.

And, like theirs, his whole overall build resembled a warrior of ancient times of Earth or Vulcan. He wasn't a giant, but considerably taller than herself, 1.8554 mtrs., as T'pol recalled, and even Travis Mayweather, who always was in good shape, would be covered by his frame; not just because of George´s size, but because of his broad build.

It had been no surprise to her both men had become training partners aboard, T'Pol thought. During their sessions there were considerably more female crewmen in the gym than usual; T'Pol knew that first hand, as she confessed to herself.

But George didn't look bulky like some other human men who did a lot of weight-lifting, as T'Pol again noted; obviously his genome, which was maternal Native American and paternal French, prevented this.

His hands were amazingly slim and elegant and he was able to operate a terminal keyboard almost as skillful and fast as herself.

But from his face one could most easily tell about his Native American ancestors; even T'Pol could, although she had seen native members of those ethnic groups only on screen. It wasn't his skin, which was actually as little 'red' as her own skin was 'green'; instead it was simply a little darker than the skin of Malcolm or Trip; T'Pol had always considered classification by skin color as prejudicial and at least inappropriate.

What made George look exotic to her were his very prominent cheek bones and the overall sharp features of his face; which made it very difficult for the casual observer to guess his age; even when being more skilled at guessing human age than herself.

George had become 37 aboard.

She knew that artists classify faces by comparing them with basic geometric shapes; from that point of view George's face best resembled a triangle, she thought.

Also amazing for her were his eyes. Although she had not grown up with humans she could tell that the features of his face and his eye color were contrasting; his eyes weren't dark like her own but gray.

Due to his build and size some Vulcan women had attempted to have a closer look at George recently. Maybe because they thought him being Vulcan before having noticed his round, human, ears; maybe because they simply found him handsome; T'Pol could not tell the reason for this interest, but had noticed that his eye color had often been a reason for debate on those occasions.

What T'Pol could have told was that she found him handsome.

xxx

Before T'Pol could recall what she had gotten to know about his biography and mind, she was distracted by the behavior of a busty blond human female who had been in the queue ahead of the two of them but had fallen back a little and was operating the serving tools with great fussiness.

T'Pol heard a chirping voice addressing her companion "Could you assist me, Sir? I recently broke my wrist."

George nodded "Played with wrong toys the wrong way?" He grinned but made no attempt to assist.

T'Pol watched the blond woman straighten up and pose with her hand manipulating her hair seemingly absent.

"Maybe you teach me how to handle them properly next time?" she chirped, while, up to T'Pol´s observation, she was trying to emit what humans called a 'deep look' into George´s eyes.

George could obviously not resist pulling her over. "Unfortunately, handling the tools Vulcans use on buffets is not my greatest skill." he turned to T'Pol "May I ask you to assist this fellow guest, Ma'am?"

"With pleasure." T'Pol had been told her voice could easily freeze stellar cores and was confident her reply had come close to that.

While she assisted the woman at the buffet she provided her with good advice about books covering Vulcan table manners and tools but the woman seemingly had lost appetite suddenly and, without a farewell, vanished after having posed slightly upset once more.

"I understood it is considered gentleman's attitude to assist women in distress, or am I mistaken?" T'Pol teased, watching the swaying walk of the vanishing woman.

"Talking about distress," George replied, pointing at a group of journalists who had noticed the two of them being under-attended momentarily and were rapidly approaching.

"Predators" she concluded.

George did not seem to give in this time "It seems we're not getting fed here today; may you join me on a ride to the harbor?"

"By all means," T'pol answered, "but we'll have to get past Soval first. We're kind of 'stuck between Scylla and Charybdis', if that metaphor is correct."

George knew about T'Pol latest faible for earth mythology and wasn't surprised "It is. Let's try to charm Scylla, at least for now."

They proceeded towards Ambassador Soval who was talking with Dr. Skon but looked up on their approach.

"I understand you two are quite exposed to public interest recently," Soval had addressed her and George. "Dealing with that is a skill you should develop if you plan to keep your heroic reputations alive."

"That would have keeping ourselves alive as a prerequisite; first of all by proper nutrition," T'Pol replied.

George was very straight head "Would you lend us a vehicle for a quick departure, Ambassador? It would be very time-consuming to make it out here by standard measures."

To T'Pol´s surprise Soval seemed well prepared to meet this request; he instantly produced a security card from somewhere inside his long sleeves. "To avoid having to deal with all the paperwork to explain press people tackled on Vulcan soil I prefer risking my own car. The guards will show you the way. Safe journey!" He gave a guardsman a sign and they stepped in the direction he indicated.

But before they could vanish, Soval called them to wait and came after them.

"When you bring the craft back, I would appreciate you joining me for tea. The two of you. I'd like to hear details about those 'Xindi'; they might become important soon." Soval said.

He had dropped his usual cynism and sounded serious, if not anxious, as T'Pol noted.

He turned to face her directly. "As your former mentor, I must confess that I'm quite impressed by the result of the mission in the Expanse." He paused, seemingly a little out of words. Than he composed himself, gave the formal Vulcan salute of holding up the right hand with the palm facing them, the thumb spread off, index- and middle-finger aligned, likewise ring- and little finger and spreading both groups apart so they formed the letter 'V', said "peace and success meanwhile" and left them.

T'Pol made a mental note about having to think about Sovals unusual ceremonial attitude.

They remained silent while the guard guided them to a hidden, little deployed parking lot. T'Pol effortlessly identified Soval´s private shuttle.

After they had boarded, T'Pol found George not immediately proceeding to the pilot seat but inspecting the supply lockers which were mounted at the rear and quickly it seemed he had found what suited his needs.

He held up two bulky, vacuum-sealed packages bearing complete sets of sand-colored Starfleet out-door gear. "This should make a good disguise; second choice production of these is sold to premium trekking suppliers and has become a popular attire; especially in the Bay Area."

He passed her the slightly smaller package saying "We can easily resupply them later." and turned around to change clothes; thus offering her privacy to do similar.

xxx

While she changed, T'Pol noted how efficient their communication had become. George did not have to state the need to change neither did she; it was clear to both of them that neither his formal uniform nor her Vulcan robes would be appropriate if they tried to escape public attention.

Furthermore they did not have to schedule a discussion about Soval´s slightly strange behaviour; both knew one of them would bring up the subject on the next occasion.

T'Pol found the kind of understatement George and her had found quite pleasing; many other humans she knew were generally talking too much and too loud to accomodate her senses.

She had the theory that this was residue of the early human childhood; most humans had little, if any, telepathic capabilities so the babies were forced to cry out to signal their needs whereas Vulcan mothers had a telepathic link with their childs that helped them anticipating their needs.

Obviuosly human males often kept part of this attitude through adolescense, T'Pol thought; she had often noted that it was not the most skilled speaker, not even the fittest male, who dominated a debate but the one who talked loudest and most; especially when the audience consisted mainly of other males.

There had been much confusion when Humans and Vulcans began debating with each others; often humans thought a debate was over after they, by their standards, had had a great share of time or 'noise', and were much surprised when their Vulcan counterparts had continued totally unimpressed.

When it came to George, T'Pol recalled that the direct impact his mother had had on his education had been much stronger than those of his father; George had partially grown up lightyears away from his father after his mother got divorced from her husband and took her son with her to work as a secretary at the rapidly extending Earth embassy on Vulcan.

So, although the diplomatic district of Shi'Kar was and is inhabited mostly by human personnel, he grew up close to a culture totally different from his own, T'Pol had summarized this.

Although speaking the Vulcan language sufficiently and knowing many facts about Vulcan culture and history, George had never claimed having developed an understanding of or detailed insight into the Vulcan culture; on the contrary he had told her he had considered the Native American culture his mother belonged being most predominant for his life.

T'Pol couldn't tell if it was Vulcan or Native American influence; but she could tell she appreciated his calm attitude. And he generally got along quite well with Vulcans; the level of understanding he had with Soval and herself was remarkable, she thought.

xxx

Meanwhile they had seated and George started the vehicle. Although the chassis of Soval's pod was quite old the low sound she heard indicated the engines were very new or had at least been very properly maintained.

He let the vehicle slide slowly towards the guarded exit; the light inside turned bright so the guards could see their faces. Both guards gave a Vulcan salute while the door opened and George responded by shortly moving his stretched right hand to his temple.

That old military salute wasn't used by Starfleet, which had been founded for the purpose of space exploration and had only become a paramilitary organization lately; but it was still used by personnel of the United Earth Space Probe Agency (UESPA); George's former employer.

T'Pol didn't like this ancient gesture but she had noticed that it could help to shorten security procedures.

George kept the pod low enough to bypass signing in for flight surveillance; when sliding at or below 1 mtr. ground distance shuttle pods could be used like ordinary cars and hover-crafts, as T'Pol knew. It would have been difficult for her flying and simultaneously following the course of a street like driving a ground-based vehicle, but she knew this was something even Travis, who was the best pilot she knew, did not like.

That's why she had decided not to debate about taking the helm, which often had to become settled by drawing lots.

"Have you yet decided where you'll sleep tonight?" George spoke up.

T'Pol had told him that she had deposited overnight luggage ahead of her quaters so the officer on duty could simply have beamed it down to her. She found it inappropriate to request a shuttle at night while her crew was trying to resynchronize with planetary day/night cycles.

"I was about to check in at HQ." T'Pol replied.

George made a proposal "There's a spare furnished apartment near Bolinas you could use for quite some time. Just a short ride to the north from here. It's about 2 km from where I live but much better hidden. I have the keys and am permitted to use it at my discretion."

"That is a very generous offer, but I don't want to cause any inconvenience." T'Pol replied.

"You wouldn't. Btw. it's located at the beach and has old coast live oaks around it..." George smiled knowingly.

Her companion could have easily guessed that was a tempting offer for her. T'Pol noted they were approaching Route 101 and she would have to decide quickly which turn to take.

She had once acknowledged that she found old coastal trees aesthetically appealing and furthermore she was fascinated by the giant masses of water on Earth, like most other Vulcans she knew; originating from a desert planet they found having that much water at disposal a tremendous gift of nature.

Finally she gave in. "I accept with pleasure. But I will want to thank the owner for that."

"I will certainly relay that. So we could get takeout food at Bolinas and eat at your place if that's okay with you?"

"Certainly." T'Pol replied and made herself comfortable; she was beginning to appreciate the ride.

The access to the highway was a bit jammed, so she had time to catch a glimpse of the bridge at the far left and the open plane of water at its right. It was 18:08:47 PST and the scenery was lit by both the twilight of the sunset ahead and the moon behind them.

She saw the lower part of the bridge was covered with fog which was lit by the street lights and the position lights of the vehicles traversing it, while the bridge top was illuminated by the moon which share of the overall luminosity was already dominant.

She deducted the almost glassy look of the bridge construction at this light gradient was caused by florescent particles in the color finish and was about to deploy the sensor array to get readings.

But she remembered some advice Captain Archer had given her some time ahead of the Xindi-attack when they were examining the dark matter assembly now known as the "Robinson Nebula"; basically he had told her to let go of sensors and tools and to watch phenomena first with her own senses and attend logs and figures later.

'That had proved to be good advice ever since, regardless of who it had given it originally,' she thought.

The phrase "regardless of" had recently become a mental shield for her when memories of Jonathan Archer came to her mind up inside her, she noted.

xxx

The traffic on the highway was still jammed but to her George suddenly seemed very focused, much more than the task of stop-and-go driving would have required, keeping an eye at the instruments and the sensor displays on a console between them.

Noting her querying look he said "I would guess that someone is pursuing us."

"Please substantiate that 'guessing' of yours!" she gave back.

"I can't, but that's what bothers me most." George replied, frowning.

T'Pol knew there was some logic in that and decided to trust George´s instinct. "Well, given you're right we should follow DIET rule for that tactical situation."

She cited "'Disinformation'. That is, don't let them know you found them out!"

George nodded and continued "'Invalidation'. That is, lay a false trail!"

"'Escape'. That's self-explanatory."

"'Tracing'. Trace their way after they turn off to find out about their motivation!" George concluded. "I have an idea for the first steps; maybe you know someone who could do the tracing, 'Captain'?"

T'Pol had already taken out her communicator and contacted Enterprise which was docked 35,786,574 mtrs. above them. She put it on loudspeaker.

"Travis here, Ma'am."

"You're on loudspeaker; the Commander is with me, 'Lieutenant'. We may be pursued. Prepare to get a sensor lock on a vehicle on my mark."

"Understood."

"I doubt that." T'Pol gave back, "By the way, your uniform is incomplete!"

"How can you...just a second! 'Lieutenant' that was?"

"No, I still own the rank of 'Captain'. But you have been promoted today, Travis." T'Pol knew it was customary to 'pull someone's leg', how the humans called it, when relaying a promotion. "Congratulations and alltime smooth sailing, Lieutenant!"

There was silence on the open comm link which was broken by her companion "Come on, are you guys asleep up there? 'Hip Hip...'," George cheered them up.

"Hurray!" was the unison response which came via the comm.

T'Pol continued "Keep the channel open!"

"Understood," Hoshi´s voice came in slightly shaken by a giggle.

"'Turtle one' over."

T'Pol had chosen the codename because they had been riding stop-and-go for a while. She now saw the reason for the traffic jam; hundred meters ahead ahead was a construction area at the right, blocking two of the four lanes.

While George used the comm installed in the pod, she got up to check a theory she had went over to the storage array mounted at the rear

The port part of it, located close to the door, where George had found their civil attire before, was separated into several compartments with handles mounted on each, whereas the starboard part was covered by two large metal plates, apparently a simple lineage.

She let her fingertips slide on the right edging of the starboard top plate and quickly found a hidden lever. The whole assembly swung aside, revealing a collection of state-of-the-art particle weapons along with some swords and daggers. Even a bat'leth was available. 'Soval does not take chances', she thought.

While she armed herself she overheard the communication George had with a man which voice was unfamiliar to her.

"George! How comes you have time to call old men like me? I was guessing you were busy dating your groupies?" a chesty voice sounded via the room comm.

"Jack, don't disclose details." George seemed amused, she noted. "You know you're on loudspeaker and it's Captain T'Pol who's with me."

The man coughed slightly and continued more formal "I'm Major Jackson McKenzie, Juliet's father. Very pleased to meet you, Ma'am! Can my division be of service to you?"

"My pleasure, Sir!" T'Pol replied, not knowing what 'his division' was. She had been informed that the battlefield promotion she had granted 'Jay', how Juliet McKenzie wanted to be called, had been confirmed by MACO command but had to admit that she did not know many personal details about Juliet, except that she was from a family with a military background.

Humans often expected her to know about details about the biography of her colleagues; ignoring that she was Vulcan and therefor from a culture which would have considered requesting personal data intrusive; even offensive if subordinates were concerned.

George continued "Jack, we assume we're being pursued and I would like to use your mazes for some hide-and-seek."

The man seemed to understand his plan immediately "That would be no problem. Do you carry any weapons with you?"

"We have some," George looked at the locker "correction, we've plenty of weapons aboard."

"Then it will be best if I meet you at the staff entry. How long until you could be here?"

"About fifteen to twenty minutes." George replied "but still, it's just precaution. We're not completely sure yet about being chased."

"That uncertainty goes with the assumption; at least if the chasers are talented." The man concluded in a less formal tone "In the case you're mistaken I'd be happy to give you a tour. Or to take you out for dinner, if your honorable companion and you are available for that."

"Thank you, Jack! See you soon!" George cut the link.

T'Pol, who had finished arming herself meanwhile, had positioned three heavy plasma-rifles right to the pod's exit after running a self-diagnostic on each. Then she took the bat'leth and a powerful phase-pistol off the locker and closed it again.

She placed both weapons at the central console so George, who was busy with maneuvering the pod as they approached the threshold, would have them handy in case of emergency. She was concerned the could become a 'sitting duck' at the traffic threshold, inviting any potential assassin to strike when they were most immobilized.

"Which profession does Ensign McKenzie´s father have?" T'Pol asked, wanting to prepare for the things to come.

"He has become the director of New San Quentin Prison lately. The mazes below the prison are where we will get rid of any unwanted company." George answered.

"Agreed" T'Pol said and filed a mental note to reconsider her policy towards dealing with the CV of human personnel.

xxx

After they had passed the threshold without any incident they could finally speed up. George could pinpoint the vehicle he found suspicious and the rear sensors were able to penetrate the twilight fair enough to tell them it was a red van with three visible passengers.

T'Pol had refrained from ordering Enterprise to penetrate the vehicle with its powerful sensors yet; there has been no crime committed, and even if they had detected any weapons it would have proved nothing; "Turtle one" was heavily armed as well and aside of being able to defend themselves she and George had no hostile intention.

There had been several reasons why T'Pol long ago had quit covert ops; this was the common practise to conduct surveillance operations. One reason had been her mission to bring back dissident covert operatives, but there had been another, more logical one as well.

Since she held a scientific degree, similar to what humans would call a physicist diploma or maybe a doctor in that subject, she was familiar with what humans called the 'observer-expectancy effect', that is, that because an experiment is conducted the experimenter defines the scale of the results or even manipulates the setup unconsciously to get appropriate readings.

So when applied to surveillance this means that the gathered information had to be reviewed with caution, especially when the subject at hand was conscious and able to detect his state. That could change results completely.

Every Starfleet captain would refrain from scanning a Klingon vessel without need, because weapons which were off-line could be activated just because of the scan itself and fired upon him for the same reason. That had happened and was in her opinion an excellent example for a self-fulfilling prophecy.

That was very simple logic, and T'Pol had found it inappropriate to deny this effect, something that covert ops and secret services, both Human and Vulcan, found easy to do.

xxx

When they approached New San Quentin it had become clear that the red van had been kept at an amazingly constant distance to their pod.

When they used the freeway exit that led to the staff entrance the van sped up and drove along without following them; but T'Pol found it appropriate to take measures for their safety and contacted her vessel.

"ENT, the van at 8 hours. Mark."

"Got it, Turtle. Tracing 'Vulture one' until notice. Shall we scan?" Travis came in.

By adding a number to the codename he defined for the van Travis had tried to remind her there could be more enemies luring, but she had been aware of that and scanning did not seem appropriate to her yet.

"Negative, ENT," she said.

"Acknowledged. Turtle, R'n'Jay were at T'n'S within record time. Come in."

"ACK. Stand down until mark. Turtle over"

"ACK. ENT over"

T'Pol found her crew´s performance within acceptable parameters. 'R and Jay' was ship's idiom for the MACOs led by Lieutenant Reed and Ensign McKenzie; and 'T and S' was short for 'Transporter and Shuttle'.

Basically Enterprise was ready for combat. Everyone would tolerate this if there was an assault, but no one would if their life just continued peacefully, Travis Mayweather had simply ordered a drill; something the CO or the watch-officer could do anytime without any explanation, even if the vessel had reduced personnel and was docked.

"You do run a tight ship, T'Pol," George said, appreciating the efficient coordination that had just been demonstrated.

T'Pol knew that a great part of this efficiency was to be credited to her companion.

"Do we?" she asked.

"There will be a way," George replied.

xxx

When they approached the guarded staff entrance of the huge prison complex T'Pol noted that the mood of her companion was turning worse.

George had told her that the complex had been completely rebuild up-from-scratch around 2100 and had nothing in common with the old prison complex she knew from movie nights aboard Enterprise.

Prisons of United Earth were regularly inspected by and had to report to a board consisting of physicians, psychologists, representatives of civil rights committees, even philosophers, but no lawyers, judges or politicians were involved.  
That guaranteed that law enforcement was never used for political campaigns; something T'Pol found highly logical.

That system was the second human cultural achievement which found great interest by other species; namely Vulcans and Betazoid.  
The first had been the "Sidney Declaration" of 2090; basically a declaration of proper conduct in armed conflicts on earth and in space, which had replaced and extended the "Geneva Conventions" of the early 20th century of Earth.  
T'Pol had once studied these documents when she had been an aide of Ambassador Soval.

When it came to New San Quentin Prison, the architects had incorporated the boards guideline of keeping the average wall height at a level that gave the inmates a view to the world outside. To ensure security, the buildings had no superficial doors but were connected by an elaborate system of underground mazes; the longest access tubes even extending into the nearby mountains.

But after all, it was a prison, she concluded.

Obviously George was bothered by the look of it as well as she was; she had to spend some mental effort to suppress the highly illogical fear which had begun to build up inside her.

"When you told me about a hidden place for dinner I was imagining something more civil, I must admit," she tried to cheer George up. She had learned that humor, even if it was just sympathetic, often helped.

George smiled faintly but answered in a very serious tone "Let's use the mazes to escape them and get back out as fast as we can, okay?"

"Agreed" T'Pol answered. Suddenly her comm beeped.

"Turtle One here. Come in."

Hoshi spoke "Vulture One has stopped after 500 meters and is broadcasting. Permission to sniff?"

"Granted. But just record; don't decode. Come in."

"Acknowledged. ENT over."

T'Pol noted there was a tall and slightly bulky man dressed in a sand-colored uniform standing close to the heavily armed guardsman at the staff entrance.

George had turned on the cabin lights some time ago, now he grounded the vehicle, opened the door and the man got in.

"Hi, I'm Jackson McKenzie" the man said to her while George closed the airlock again and restarted the engine at low impact.

"I'm T'Pol. Thanks for coming to help us!" She noticed that she had looked at him a little longer than she would consider appropriate and quickly added "Please take a seat, Sir. You may take one of those rifles next the door in case we get in an emergency situation."

He sat down, and took one rifle.

"Weapon loaded, armed and secured. Please confirm state and transference." T'Pol recited standard procedure.

McKenzie looked at the weapon and responded accordingly "State and transference confirmed."

"Would you tell me a way to the northwest mountain tunnel?" George said from the helm, maneuvering the vehicle through the narrow, round opening of the outer concrete wall the guard had opened for them.

"'120101112' Your vehicle can sign in, you've clearance to go at 200 kph. Please don't make bruises into my walls. By the way - howdy, Chieftain?"

George entered the data into the automated pilot then turned around, offered his hand and answered "Thanks for helping us, Jack. Where shall I drop you?"

The men shook hands and McKenzie replied "I guess you were going to Bolinas for dinner?" George nodded "You could drop me there. By no means I'd let you guys run into any danger alone. You two deserve better from this planet." Then he smiled.

T'Pol was not favoring his participation. "That is most honorable, Sir, but we would not want to put you in danger."

"Geez, being kind of 'brother at arms' with you guys - that's something I would not want to miss. Something my grandchildren will still be proud of." His smile turned into a laughter. "And I live in Bolinas anyway, so it´s a cheap journey for me."

There was obviously no way to make their well-spirited companion change his mind so T'Pol gave up and settled into the co-pilot chair.

She had virtually been living on vessels which traveled at over-light speed but being shot through the narrow mazes at 200 kph was a new experience for her.

While they traveled their passenger explained the purpose of this elaborate underground system which was more keeping intruders outside than preventing the escape of prisoners. Another purpose was to disguise prisoner transports; a potential attacker would have to monitor - and know - all exits simultaneously.

There were some inmates who were highly wanted dead or alive by fractions all over the planet, if not fractions of the entire quadrant lately, he had explained.

xxx

T'Pol had listened politely but nevertheless found it highly acceptable when they finally passed the designated exit and rocketed into the nightly darkness with the vast emptiness of space above.

Even Jackson McKenzie had momentarily fallen into silence when the night had consumed them again.

In this very moment, the world around her only lit by the stars above she did something no one had ever seen her doing.

She smiled.

For a reason she knew but could not explain she felt herself at peace.

TBC


	3. Gaia and friends

March 21st 2377; Briar Patch

Jean-Luc Picard was not amused.

Meeting Q was worse enough, but being pushed into one his his elaborate setups was much worse.

Jean-Luc knew that he had already lost the first battle; he would have to play following Q's rules to a certain degree.

Basically there was a great chance that there really were a Vulcan female and a Human male, stuck on Ba'ku who maybe did not know at all how and why they had been brought there; most likely they did not even know where they were.

Cooperating with them, maybe helping them, would be his duty, as he knew very well, both as a Starfleet Captain and as a human who felt entitled to attending morality, or at least trying to do so.

Q had always liked to use his morality and those of his crew-mates as a weapon against them and to challenge them to the uttermost extent by creating paradoxes.

Furthermore there was someone, be it Vulcan, Human, Q or whoever it might be, who was interfering with the peaceful society of the Ba'ku, Jean-Luc thought.

He knew that the welfare of Anij might very well be his primary, subjective, emotional concern, but having an additional personal interest in the fate of those people would not foil his overall motivation. There had to be done something to keep trouble from the outside away from them, Jean-Luc concluded.

Q had passed a border Jean-Luc had expected even him to acknowledge; pestering humans for the purpose of 'education' was one thing, although tremendously arrogant, it at least was conclusive to a certain degree, as Jean-Luc sometimes silently confessed to himself.

But pestering the Ba'ku had a new, evil quality, Jean-Luc found.

Those people were modest, pacifist, contemplative, just, caring and forgiving; they had all the qualities Q had always told him Humans were lacking; so bothering them would be of no good at all.

The saddest thing for Jean-Luc was that he doubted Q had chosen the Ba'ku as a target if it had not been because of his, of Jean-Luc Picards, connection to this people.

He felt anger rising up inside him.

xxx

Worf interrupted his thoughts. "Shall I try to contact Enterprise, Sir?"

"No, Mr. Worf, we should not give in that easily." Picard shook his head to underline his words. "Anij told me I could bring a friend of mine with me. That makes two people, not a whole swarm of armed rescue teams." He felt his anger grow. "I shall be dammed if I don't respect the wish of those people," Picard almost cried out.

He took a deep breath to calm down a little, then continued "Mr. Worf, please acknowledge the distress call and then carry on."

Worf turned around and frowned "'Carry on', Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Worf. We will store away our weapons and first inform Anij about the situation; and if she and her people permit then go and look for the stranded." He sat down and straightened his jacket, then continued "That is rather a hostile situation the stranded, if any, are in and the distress call did not indicate anyone was under an immediate threat."

"Understood" Worf replied and turned back to the console. To his slight surprise Worf did not initiate another discussion about precaution.

While he watched his helmsman working Picard said more to himself. "Q might have won the first battle, but he'll learn I'm not his play-toy anymore,"

Worf turned around "Sir?"

"Nothing, Mr. Worf. Just thinking aloud." Picard replied.

He then cast aside the trouble that was luring for them and decided to get a little fun for the both of them from that ride.

He got up and addressed his companion, sheepishly grinning "Mr Worf, have you ever heard about the 'Neptune Waltz'?"

"Klingons do not dance."

"Mr. Worf, this certain dance could become quite famous among Klingons, believe me."

He indicated he wanted to take the helm and Worf changed to the co-pilot seat.

"When I was a cadet, I had found out a certain maneuver to establish a recessive orbit for a planet with a ring system using one moon and the rings itself for gravitational acceleration.  
On Neptune you cannot ground, but for training it was well suited. As long as you managed to get away before dispersed gas would freeze the engines.  
Of course, that maneuver was not very popular with our teachers, to say the least, but adopted for planets of Ba'ku´s mass..."

xxx

When Jean-Luc had finally grounded the yacht and they disembarked he noted Worf moving a little shaky.

"Indeed a remarkable maneuver, Captain. Especially impressive with inertia dampeners adjusted to the granularity of the old viper-class training vessels." the huge Klingon spoke up.

Grinning widely, Picard looked at his companion "Mr. Worf where is that Klingon of yours spirit for challenges?" he issued, clenching the right fist and flexed the arm like in a biceps-pose to underline his phrase.

"We don't duel with Newtonian physics lately. Our bat'leths do not harm it, we've learned."

Both men fell into laughter. The 'Neptune Waltz' had done its job, Picard noted.

Jean-Luc then looked around and tried to take a mental picture of the scenery. "Can a place more lovely, more perfect than this exist?" He stopped and let his eye rest on the nearby mountains. "I doubt it, Mr. Worf."

They had changed their attires before disembarking and were now wearing light outdoor gear and had backpacks shouldered.

The current season on Ba'ku was similar to terrestrial springtime; the rich planetary nature was painting the scenery with fresh green color. The shore of the small river they were following was flanked by trees of an unknown kind, their shape and color faintly resembling terrestrial oaks, which were decorated by white and yellow blossoms; the same colors were found at flowers which grew in the wild grass lining the shore along with blossoms red and dark blue. Jean-Luc noted a slight breeze, typical for areas adjacent to the mountains, which still kept the air cool and fresh.

"Silverlode." Picard said absently.

"Sir?"

"A fictional river, Mr. Worf." His companion still frowned, so Picard asked "Have you ever read 'The Lord of the Rings'?".

Worf nodded "A great tale of courage and glory. The Klingon original being remarkable well-written." That had become the standard joke in Starfleet when it came to Earth literature.

"There's much more in it, Mr. Worf. Much more. About at the midst of their journey the fellows follow the river Silverlode to..."

"...Lorien? Welcome, Stranger!" A melodic female voice behind them had spoken.

"Anij!" Jean-Luc turned around and saw her standing under a tree, carrying a bunch of flowers from the shoreline. She looked exactly like the day he had left her; wearing a simple but fine rose dress, her hair surrounding her face in untamed wilderness; her lips were curled by a friendly, somewhat knowing, smile. Her eyes where as shining as before, surrounded by the laughing lines Jean-Luc had liked from the first time he had seen her.

"Anij!" He repeated and ran over to her, dropping his backpack carelessly on the ground and took her in his arms "Anij, it has been too long. Two years."

She smiled wider and replied "That was just yesterday, wasn't it," she said, scanning his face carefully with her large eyes. Then she put her free arm around his neck, closed her eyes and they kissed passionately.

A sweet eternity later Jean-Luc suddenly heard her laughing "Maybe I should attend to the flowers, before you crumple them." They parted and she continued "They were intended to be your welcome gift."

Anij took his offered hand and joined they approached Worf who had been scanning the proximity using his binocular during their reunification.

"Anij, you do recall Mr. Worf, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Anij said softly. She turned to Worf and scanned his face with the same intense attention she had used on himself before; that was an attitude Jean-Luc had found being unique to her. To him it seemed she tried to penetrate the face, even the mind with her large, dark eyes and tried to look at the innermost self of the one she attended.

Instead of shaking Worf´s hand she took a deranged curl of his hair and carefully rearranged it behind his left ear, then softly laid her hand on his cheek and, said a little absently, like attending a far distant scenery. "You suffered a lot since you left. It is good you have come back. Be welcome!"

Worf was more than one head taller than Anij and his frame as double as broad, but in this moment it seemed to him Anij was caressing a child which could sit on her knee, Jean-Luc thought. All Klingon fierceness had suddenly passed away and Worf looked at her with a soft and serene expression.

"Thank you, Ma'am" Worf said, bowing slightly to her. He looked slightly confused after she had taken away her hand and the moment had gone. He blinked.

Anij let her eyes rest on Worf for a little longer, than broke the silence, turning to Jean-Luc "You must be hungry after you traveled that long. Come follow me to the village."

She reached out her hand and Jean-Luc took it and they marched towards the village holding hands.

Jean-Luc had to resume duty "We've received a distress call while in orbit. Apparently send by a Vulcan woman and and a Human male."

"I know. Another stranger has arrived lately and told us. They will be fine, he said." Anij explained. "This stranger is a really a strange entity; he looks like human a or a Ba'ku, but he is completely different from our kind. Different from any kind I've met."

"Q!" Jean-Luc said grudgingly; feeling his good spirit fading.

"Yes, that's how he calls himself." Anij looked at the distant mountains and said thoughtfully "He´s old. Not his human appearance but he has a very old soul."

Jean-Luc stopped and turned towards her "Anij, has he by any means pestered your people?"

"I can see you're angry on him. It is indeed ... 'difficult' to be with him for longer." She smiled. "Bust it seems I have a talent to charm people, don't I?"

"That cannot be denied." Jean-Luc sighed and a little reluctantly returned the smile .

"But this ...guy can be a pest. He has a very strange sense of humor; mostly nobody is laughing except himself," he continued.

"He tried to entertain our children by playing tricks like producing rabbits out of nothing. They lost their interest in him after they had found out he did not care for the animals," Anij told them.

Picard and Worf both had to laugh. This apparently almighty entity not being able to entertain children made up for at least some of the trouble.

"Hopefully he's gotten plenty of boos and rotten tomatoes," Jean-Luc thought with amusement.

xxx

"Jean-Luc! Mon capitan!"

When they arrived at the central square of the Ba'ku village, where its inhabitants had met for lunch, Jean-Luc heard Q´s familiar voice welcoming him with the usual affectionate enthusiasm.

As usual, Q wore a Starfleet uniform with pips designating him as Captain.

Jean-Luc hated Q's attitude of greeting him as much as the fact that Q used a faked Captain´s attire. But things got even worse when Q, his human form being larger and stronger than Jean-Luc, wrapped his arms around him and hugged him enthusiastically.

"Mon cher ami!" Q still smiled affectionate and now laid his hands on Picard´s shoulders.

Jean-Luc shook off the touch of his opponent, stepped a little backwards and shouted angrily "I'm as little your friend as you are a Starfleet Captain." With a quick move he ripped the pips off Q´s uniform.

Instantly the scenery changed. They were standing on a wooden platform; soldiers dressed in uniforms of the Napoleonic Wars surrounded them and were watching from below when Picard saw his own hand repeating the gesture on Q who now wore a uniform of those times and stood underneath a hangman's noose. A monotone drumming completed the scenery.  
"Sir! Yes, Sir!" the Napoleonic Q shouted and a blink later they were back on Ba'ku.

"I confess this attire is inappropriate for my visit, Jean-Luc" Q said, snipped with his fingers and instantly his uniform changed to a blue overall that resembled those of the first Enterprise mission.

"Does this ring a bell, Jean-Luc?" Q asked, smiling cynically, and again the scenery changed. Jean-Luc found himself standing next to a giant brass bell which Q, who was sitting atop waving with his right hand in Jean-Luc´s direction, was about to ring shifting his body back and forth like children do on a swing.  
Soon the bell hit her pendulum, thus emitting an ear-crushing sound and before it had ebbed again they were back on Ba'ku.

"Stop this comedy!" Jean-Luc shouted at him. "Tell me what you want aside of pestering me, the Ba´ku and heaven knows whom-so-ever else."

"Yes, up there we do know that, Jean-Luc. As everything." Q replied.

"But obviously the 'God of Lies' does not even know how to entertain children." Jean-Luc issued cynically. He was definitely annoyed by now.

In the next moment Jean-Luc found himself standing in a boxing ring facing Q. He saw his own gloved fist moving towards the chin of his opponent like in slow-motion. But instead of being credited for the hit the audience booed at him and the referee, also being Q, disqualified him for unfairness. Within a blink he was back on Ba'ku.

"I've told you to stop this nonsense!" Jean-Luc shouted again but noted that Worf, who had seated meanwhile, and all Ba'ku were looking at him because of his outburst; obviously no one except himself had noted the last trickery, if any of them.

Anij finally intervened. "Sit down and have lunch with us. Both of you."

Picard and Q looked at each other, then at Anij and back at each other again.

"You've heard her," Q said.

"As you did," Picard replied.

"Now!" Anij ordered.

Both men slowly settled themselves while not looking at their seats or the table but straight in each other´s eyes. Jean-Luc knew it was childish but he tried not to blink first.

Finally large plates were handed to them and they had to help themselves and pass them to their neighbors. Because Q had seated next to Worf he had to pass the plate to him and, as Jean-Luc would have expected, Q could not resist to drop a line.

"The food is the colored 'it' on top of the white 'it', do you understand?" Q said to Worf.

Worf took a deep breath, but Picard noted that he quickly eyed him and Anij and replied overly polite "Thank you, Q!"

"You're welcome. Simply tell me if you need assistance."

Worf produced a low grumble but said nothing, instead attended his food.

xxx

Picard could not permit himself the luxury of remaining quiet, instead he asked "Q, what can you tell me about the distress call we received?"

"O Jean-Luc! Mon capitan! No 'Tell me! Now!'? No 'Immediately!'? How very civilized of you!"

Jean-Luc said nothing but tried to wait patiently for a response; meanwhile Q manipulated his salad like others would handle a Klingon mud-worm, as Jean-Luc would have described Q´s experiments with his dish.

Jean-Luc knew that Q did not need to eat, of course, but he wanted to give him a chance to blame himself a little.

Finally Q let go and put fork and knife aside. "Your precious colleagues from the past will be here within some days. I could tell you more precisely, of course. But thou shall not know, mortal!"

Q had altered his voice on the last sentence, to make it sound like a deep grumble coming from underneath the surface; an effect which obviously was again limited to Jean-Luc only. Afterwards Jean-Luc heard a chorus raising a 'Hallelujah', but did not care much; instead casually asked  
"Why the delay?". The jingle ebbed.  
Pretending to be bothered little, Jean-Luc indeed desperately wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"I would have expected you finding the book I left for you and read it ahead of your vacation." Q replied. "Because you did not find out you'll have to wait."

After vainly waiting for a reaction from his opponent, Q replied. "Jean-Luc I know this will be hard for you but you should at least try to read and understand it, mon ami." He had leaned forward and spoken with feigned compassion.

"I must admit it took even me half a 'Planck Time' to understand and find the worst errors in it. Can you imagine that?" Q continued pompously.

"That you have understood it? No, definitely not." Worf spoke. "But before you ask, it's the time a photon needs to a travel a 'Planck Length'."

Anij and Jean-Luc started laughing but Worf had just been starting "By the way, Q, may I ask which book you were talking about?"

That did it. Their table neighbors, including some kids, had overheard the conversation and everybody around, including Jean-Luc laughed about this punch line.

Everybody except Q, who folded his arms in front of his chest and looked cantankerously, as Jean-Luc noted with some degree of satisfaction.

Jean-Luc noticed Anij was scanning Q´s features the same intense way, she had scanned Worf on their arrival.

She addressed Q speaking very softly "Do you never laugh?".

Q seemed surprised and offended, he bobbed his head to the other side and stared at the distance. 'He easily gets in a huff recently,' Jean-Luc thought but decided to let go at least for the time being.

xxx

Regular table talk was resumed and Jean-Luc addressed Worf "I understand Q was referring to 'Proceedings'; obviously he kindly provided me with a new issue but somehow, well, I must have 'forgotten', that he told me about having placed it in my quarters. In my locked, private quarters." Jean-Luc had put some impact in the last phrase and looked at Q.

"Oh, Jean-Luc! Excusez moi, mon capitan! I should have known better how precious privacy is for you bipedal corporeals. Petty little spaces to accomplish your petty little corporeal tasks. 'Eating', 'sleeping', 'dripping water on you to remove organic parasites'" Q issued with disgust and shook himself like suffering from spasms.

That he leaned forward towards Jean-Luc and said like a conspirator "Can you imagine - that Vulcan woman even slapped me for attending her!"

Jean Luc lifted his eyebrows and nodded. "Imagine that!" he said with cynic compassion.

Worf spoke up "Were you hiding in the dark like targ while she changed?"

"Worf, my primate, non-cerebral guttural friend...," Q started.

"Don't you do that!" Worf said decisively.

"But you are a primate with very limited...," Q tried to continue.

Worf turned towards him with a threatening pose "Shut up and listen, 'PtaQ'! Don't you dare to call me 'friend'!"

"Again that has hit," Picard thought with interest as we watched Q opening his mouth to continue arguing with Worf but then composing himself.

"However, Jean-Luc. I did hide the book to show you how little you actually care about improving yourself recently. Q told me that would be no measure, but I found it an interesting insight for you," Q said.

"I understand this time 'Q' shall denote former Amanda Rogers?"

"Oh yes, she is quite a fan of..."

"You were right." Jean-Luc interrupted him.

"Mon capitan?"

"Your assumption that I care too little about improving myself recently. It was correct."

xxx

Jean-Luc hated to hear about his current lack of interest for intellectual challenge; most of all from this pompous and arrogant entity Q.

But Q was right, Jean-Luc had to admit.

He would become 72 soon, and although he had been under the influence of the meta-phase radiation on Ba'ku´s surface before and had thus experienced a partial cellular regeneration which would increase during his recent visit, this would not alter his intellectual state.

The people which were important to him considered him still being one of the quickest and deepest thinkers they knew and he had no reason to complain about his physical fitness or intellectual capability.

But he had found himself musing what to do with his still present power and yet found no conclusive answer, he had to confess.

He had contributed to Starfleet´s and Federation´s further success and this were up to his estimation the predominant factors for the further development of civilization on Earth, in the Quadrant and maybe of their part of The Galaxy. Some people even said he and his crew had defined standards for proper ethical conduct, by which upcoming generations of officers would be measured. "A verdict too great for humans still alive", he thought, smiling inwardly.

He had had the idea of reading books again which had once been important for him; Platone´s dialogs, Aristotle´s teachings, Marc Aurel 'Meditationes', the Vulcan Kir´Shara and others which dealt with either ethics or perception in general or, like Cicero 'De oratore', were important because the underlying premises about the Human mind.

He had yet not even started doing so, he had to admit and to ask himself why he hadn't.

'At least I should keep on being decently honest with myself', he thought. He would have had sufficient time recently, so his standard excuse would not work for him, that he knew.

He also knew there were two categories of books he would have hesitated to read again.

The first were religious writings. He had lived his live yet as a sort of agnostic and would have found it inappropriate to change this. Up to his personal understanding, 'enlightening' was not gathered by a sudden insight into a divine mind but by lifelong dedication and reflection.

The second category he had a dislike against were books which told him too much about the oddities of humanity like "Il principe" by Machiavelli, which he had once in the course of political studies.  
When he read this once upon he had sworn to himself to never act as ruthless as it was described therein if he ever would gather some sort of might in his life.

The tragedy was that, if he had failed to meet his own preconception after having exerted some sort of might now for decades, he would probably be the only on to recognize this, he thought.

Maybe he needed some illusions about himself to function, he had guessed.

But why he would have hesitated to attend a highly appreciated and influential work like 'Proceedings', which was also co-authored by a former Enterprise Captain was yet unknown to him.

And he was sure that he would have tried to get around re-reading it without necessity, he could not tell why.

"Or could I and just would not like the tale?" Jean-Luc mused.

xxx

"Jean-Luc?"

Suddenly he noted that Anij had addressed him while offering a basket with fruits.

He took a fruit that looked like an apple and noted that Q stared at him with what Jean-Luc would call a fascinated expression.

He composed himself and tried to gather the rest of information he needed from Q. "Those colleagues you, well, 'brought' to this planet and time,"

Q interrupted "Jean-Luc, do you want to imply that I abducted them?" he using his common cynic mood again, as Jean-Luc noted.

"That thought did cross my mind. But anyway, do they require assistance to get here?"

"Jean-Luc, this time I'm totally 'innocent';" then he continued like speaking to himself "Whatever petty little human idea that phrase might denote."

"Of course. By the way, why did T'Pol slap you?" Jean-Luc felt his fighting spirit return "Not that this would require a justification when it come to you," he added

"I only did her a favor, Jean-Luc. Believe me!"

"How?"

"I passed her a towel."

"OK, I'd have a solid assumption why that wasn't overly welcome."

Q shrugged.

"By the way, if you contact people it would be good manners if you did it in a more conventional fashion like giving them a call or transmitting a note. I'm sure that will be simple for a Q; isn't it." Jean-Luc knew this was most likely a futile approach to better Q, but trying wouldn't hurt, he thought.

"Jean-Luc, if this over you will want to thank me on you knees regardless of how I initiated it. You might even want to consecrate an altar to my services." Q nodded and pressed his right thumb and middle-finger together like snapping his fingers again, but stopped.

"Well, anyway. Your colleagues are fine and are equipped with stuff for 'trekking', as Q, well, 'Amanda' for you mortals, called this." He frowned and shook his head. "One day she'll have to explain to me what the idea behind these corporeal wastes of time is."

Jean-Luc noted that lunchtime was over and the Ba'ku were about to collect plates and tools.

Q spoke up again "I understand it of your petty little human traditions to assist on tasks like this." Then he addressed Anij.

"May I contribute, Ma'am?"

"If you would really like to do so." Anij was always giving second chances, Jean-Luc noted.

Q snapped his fingers; plates and cutlery were instantly disappearing out of the hand of the Ba'ku who had held them and reappeared cleaned and tidely assembled on a nearby table.

"Would you please revert this." Anij said softly.

"Why?" Q really seemed lost to Jean-Luc.

"You may contribute by re-arranging the tables together with Jean-Luc, but not by taking our daily labor away from us. Well?"

Q shrugged, snapped his fingers and the table arrangements reappeared where they had been, as uncleaned as before.

xxx

To Jean-Luc´s great surprise, Q actually did help him and Worf to move the tables to a corner of the central square afterwards; still grumbling about how futile that task was and with his usual arrogant attitude; but he did contribute to the common task; something Picard would have considered virtually impossible. "Anij does have a skill of charming people," Jean-Luc thought with a smile.

When they had finished, Anij came over and addressed the three of them. "Thank you, strangers! I'd like to invite you to come to my place and have a tea with me now." She turned to Q and added "Or just talk, if you're not thirsty."

"Thank you, but I have to rearrange some galaxies...well, I have to go now." Q answered and turned to Jean-Luc "Read this book, Jean-Luc" he snapped with his fingers and a thick volume appeared out of nothing. He handed it to Picard. "For a thing produced by mortals it's not overly silly."

He stepped closer to Picard "Especially it will have a benefit for you, mon capitan. Your task will be the most challenging you human could imagine, so your conscience needs to be prepared."

Jean-Luc could not resist teasing Q once more "Do you care about petty human things like conscience lately?"

"Of course not. But divine beings like me have to say things like this." Again his voice changed into a deep grumble "You will have once to justify your deeds, mortal! Thou shall not summon me in vain!" And with a snap of his fingers he disappeared.

Jean-Luc was just about to turn to Anij and Worf when Q suddenly reappeared.

"Oh, Jean-Luc! Don't try to 'assist' your colleagues on their journey here. By your limited perception of time they come from 2154; right after the 2nd Vulcan reformation, and Amanda thought they needed some time of their own right now. You won't find them anyway, believe me, mortal!" He sighed and said with pompous disgust "Corporeals!". Then he shook his head and vanished.

xxx

Worf and Jean-Luc had followed Anij to her house and had had tea with her, having a very pleasant conversation about the things that had happened since their last visit to Ba'ku.

While they had talked Jean-Luc had found Anij scanning him carefully when their eyes had met, there was no need to explain that he was very concerned about the reason why Q had set this up.

There was much more behind it than Q's regular pestering of him and his crew; about that Jean-Luc was sure by now.

Worf had told them that Data had asked him to give a game Data had developed to a boy he had once met on Ba'ku, Anij had taken the chance to grant Jean-Luc a little time on his own and went off together with Worf.

While he watched the smooth change of light at the verge of the golden Ba'ku sunset, Jean-Luc finally hesitantly opened the book Q had urged him to read:

Proceedings

By

T'Pol of Vulcan  
Ambassador General of a  
Federation of Planets

and

Dishar Kiaphet'sor of Nova Xinda  
Chairwoman of  
The Xindi Council

Preface

This is the unrevised transcript of the recordings  
of the peace talks which took place in the caverns  
of the Xindi Aquatics´ habitat on Nova Xinda  
in 2153 at the verge of war between United Earth  
and the Xindi Union.

Both authors have been urged by public interest  
to write down how they turned the fate of both  
Humans and Xindi and laid the foundation for  
future cooperation of those species.

Part of my services as then-XO of the spacecraft  
NX-01 'Enterprise' was to protect the lives of the  
crew, this included the life of the Captain, so  
I accompanied then-Captain T'Pol during the time  
she pursued the advocacy of Earth's cause.

Any tales about me having participated directly  
in the talks are urban legends, my contribution  
was to keep my mouth shut and safeguarding T'Pol  
on diving to and from the point she and  
Hon. Dishar Kiaphet´sor met in the Aquatic´s realm.

For reasons that both authors think would become  
clear from the content of this protocol, neither  
of them will comment on this publication.  
Nor will I.

The valued reader may find it useful to have a  
historical database handy when following these  
proceedings, for there are no references or  
footnotes given within.

Dear T'Pol, you had come to serve and that service  
shall be praised on Earth.

Dishar, the tales of your wisdom shall be sung as  
long as the waters flow.

Cheron, November 2162

George E. Picard of Earth  
Ambassador General of a  
Federation of Planets

TBC


End file.
